


Drained Dry

by taylor_tut



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Dehydration, Gen, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, Langst, Self-Sacrifice, Sick Character, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-23 04:04:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10711821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: Lance and Shiro are stranded, and Shiro is hurt. Lance pours his water into Shiro's canteen. Shiro doesn't notice until it's almost too late.





	Drained Dry

Shiro would later hate himself for not noticing that no matter how much water he drank, that his canteen never seemed to deplete. 

“Not much further now,” Shiro said. Lance nodded. He’d been quiet, but Shiro knew that he was blaming himself for Shiro’s injury and for the crash in general, so he didn’t think that his silence was completely abnormal. He really clammed up when he felt like he’d done something wrong. 

The first time he noticed that something might be up was when Lance stumbled forward–and even then, the only thing that brought it to his attention was the fact that he nearly sent both of them to the ground. Shiro clutched his injured side protectively as Lance staggered forward dizzily, then clumsily helped Shiro lean against the trunk of a tree and dug his palms into his eye sockets. 

“Lance?” Shiro asked, panic lacing his voice, “What’s going on?” 

“Nothing,” Lance brushed him off, “Just a killer headache. S’fine. Just a minute.” 

Shiro reached out to put a hand on the blue paladin’s shoulder and cried out as the motion tugged at his injured side. Lance sighed and removed his hands from his eyes. 

“We should get going,” he slurred.

“If you need another minute–”

“M’good,” Lance reassured. “We’ve got to get you back. You’re still bleeding. Drink some more,” he instructed.

“It’s just a trickle,” Shiro argued, sipping the water that Lance coaxed to his lips. Shiro glanced at Lance’s dry face. “How are you not sweating? It’s so hot.” Lance shrugged. 

“Cuban,” Lance fabricated, “used to it.” Shiro nodded. That made sense. 

As they walked, Shiro leaning most of his weight on Lance, he tried multiple times to engage the younger man in conversation, but Lance seemed to be losing steam, responding first with short sentences, then one-word replies, and eventually not at all. 

“So how hot is it in Cuba?” Shiro tried once more. The silence was unnerving. Lance was staring straight ahead, blinking rapidly. His heart was hammering hard in his chest, so loudly that he could hear nothing but his own blood in his ears. “Lance?” Shiro prompted, “ _ Lance!” _  The blue paladin startled, but as soon as his full attention was not devoted to remaining upright, his knees gave out and he found himself slipping to the ground. Shiro sunk to his knees beside the boy. He probed Lance’s head for injuries, but as soon as his flesh hand touched his forehead, his stomach knotted. “You’re burning up,” he informed. 

“M’not sick,” Lance protested.

“I think you’ve got heat stroke, buddy,” Shiro clarified. “Have you been drinking enough?”

Lance averted his eyes from Shiro’s. 

“Lance?”

“Poured m'water in your canteen,” he admitted. 

“What?” Shiro exclaimed. “Why?”

“You needed it,” he shrugged. 

Shiro’s gaze hardened. “So do you.” Lance hesitated, but finally took the water extended toward him and sipped. Once he had a few mouthfuls, instinct took over, and he started gulping down larger and larger mouthfuls of water until Shiro gently pulled it away. 

“You’re going to make yourself sick if you drink it too fast,” he scolded gently. 

Sure enough, mere seconds later, Lance leaned over and coughed up half the water that he’d swallowed. 

“Lance, you know you can’t do this to yourself. Sacrifice yourself like this.”

“I know, Shiro,” he replied. “And I know we’re not done talking, but just–later? My head.”

Shiro nodded. “Later, then,” he promised. “Drink some more– _ slowly _ this time.” Lance took a few small sips before handing it back to Shiro. 

“More than that,” Shiro argued. 

“I’m good, Shiro,” he lied, “we’ve still got to share what little water is left until we get to the Lions.” Shiro blinked a few times. 

“Lance,” he said slowly, pointing to a blurry figure behind his head–Black and Blue.

“Oh,” was all Lance could say. He allowed himself the rest of the water. 

 


End file.
